Broken Record
by trunks111
Summary: Tweek. AU. Tormented by his mind, unwilling to die, is there really a light? He's sixteen. Everything feels weighted. Do things change? He's not that twitchy little kid anymore.
1. Chapter 1

He lies awake, the clock beside his bed reads 3am. A blanket is strewn halfway across him, but one leg stubbornly sticks out the side, in truth, the blanket is probably too small for him, but he can't really be bothered. With a nearly inaudible sigh, he throws the blanket to one side and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He blinks blearily a few times, his contacts fucked up from having his eyes closed too long. He slept for maybe an hour. He padded quietly to the bathroom, flicking the light on and regarding himself in the mirror. Messy as hell blond hair, sticking out at all angles, ice blue eyes - courtesy of his contacts, a dark green button up, fully buttoned to the button below the neck, sleeves down covering half his hands, hands which were crisscrossed with bandages from numerous tiny cuts and cracks in his hands; his black pajama bottoms just barely touched the tops of his feet, but they had decent sized pockets so he wore them almost always around the house and occasionally to school. He zoned out looking in the mirror, his thoughts convincing him there was another him on the side of the mirror, one that needed to get out, he only had to become one with the mirror, to do that he just had to force his way into the mirror, by hitting it as hard as he could, he would transcend through the glass and into the other world.

He used the bathroom and washed his hands before returning to his bedroom. The clock read 4am. He heard them before he saw them, the underpants gnomes.

He spoke calmly, but his words carried force and with his glowing ice blue eyes, the gnomes fled in fear.

Smirking, the blond reclined on his bed, his legs still over the edge. He gazed up at the ceiling, it was quiet, for once, even his mind seemed quiet. At least, for a little while...

It was like he was floating in darkness, no light, save for the glow of the red numbers on his alarm clock. It seemed far away however, and nothing seemed real. Everything was hazy, the shadows seemed to whisper to him.

You'reworthlessyouknow. Noonecaresaboutyou. Theyonlytolerateyourtwitchyexistence. Everyonewishesyouweredead. GiveinalreadyTweekyboy. Allyouneedisthatblackbladeyoucarryeverywhere. Justaquicksliceisallitwilltake. Noonewouldmissyou. Notevenyourparents. Theydon'tcareaboutyouTweekyboy. Theonlyonethatcaresaboutyou,isme. I'myourbestfriendTweeky. Youronlyfriend. Listen...listen...listen...

Tweek clutched his head, shaking, his breath coming in gasps. It was standing there, across the room, it's eyes were white, it was staring directly at him. It seemed to grow larger and larger, it filled the room, this wispy, shadowy thing. He scrambled across his bed, nearly falling onto the floor in his haste. He got on the floor, on his knees, digging in his messenger bag. His hands were shaking, hell his whole body shook, but he finally found it, his tattoo gun. He calmed slightly when he touched it, cradling it like one would a baby, or something equally precious. He moved on auto-pilot from then on, finding all his supplies, ink, needles, the disposable shaving razors, the disinfectant he used to clean whatever part of his arm he was going to tattoo, latex gloves, rubber bands, and his lovely paper towels. Most of the tremors were gone by now, his mind icey. He twitched, but that was just his normal twitching. He unbuttoned his shirt and discarded it onto his bed. Carefully, he disinfected his arm, shaved the part he was going to tattoo, just incase, and disinfected it again. Carefully, painstakingly slowly, he began drawing the figure that still stood across the room.

The tattoo wound up only being about six inches long and about two to three wide, wispy and shadowy, black, gray, and white. Above it, in black, scrawled "listen". He disinfected his arm one last time, gently patting it dry. He got up slowly, his legs having fallen asleep as he sat there. He methodically put everything away and threw away the contaminated items in a special trash bag that he always took out immediately after anything was put in it. He glanced at the time, seven am. He grimaced before finding his good jeans and a new dark green button up, along with the other essentials. His parents were already at the shop, so he walked across the hall without fear of being seen. He took a quick shower, careful to wash his fresh tattoo, before dressing for school. He returned to his room fully dressed and buttoned. Luckily his shirt was large enough that the material barely irritated his new ink. He stuffed his wallet, keys, phone, and knife into his pockets before grabbing his favorite thermos and going downstairs. He sadly made some instant coffee and left the house, careful to lock up. He glanced at the time as he walked down the street, if he walked quickly, he would make the bus.

Sitting on the warm-ish bus, he sipped from his thermos, barely listening to the conversations all around him. Most of it was uninteresting nonsense so he dug in his bag for his iPod and headphones. With it on shuffle, he stuck it back in his pocket and closed his eyes. By the time they reached the school, Tweek was completely calm, still twitching of course, but calm. He kept his earbuds in as he walked to his locker, no one wanted to talk to him so it wasn't like he would miss much.

He was gazing into the abyss of his locker when someone bumped into him, startling him. He noticeably twitched, turning to see who it was.

It was Kyle Broflovski, he was saying something but Tweek was too unfocused to read his lips so he took out an earbud.

"Hm?"

"I'm so sorry dude! I didn't mean to run into you." Kyle was talking fast and not looking into his eyes, he seemed almost nervous.

"GAHH! It's okay." Tweek twitched again, his calm momentarily disturbed.

Kyle looked relieved, "Great! I'll uh, I'll see you in English!" Then he darted off to rejoin his friends.

Tweek watched him go, joining Stan, Kenny, and Cartman. His eyes lingered on the four friends for a minute, but he returned his attention to his locker. He finished there and went to his first class, Algebra II. Terrible thing, math. The teacher was helpful though, so the class wasn't too bad. He sat in the back of the class, no one talked to him in there, it was a mix of under and upperclassmen. He drank his coffee and did the day's assignment. His calm returning as the monotony of the school day set in.


	2. Chapter 2

He absently put aquaphor on his tattoo when he got home, leaving the sleeve up so as not to get anything on it. He paid it no mind however, sitting alone in the house, doing his school work. Hours passed uneventfully, as he finished his homework. He eventually wandered down the stairs for more coffee. He made a hazelnut blend and filled his thermos before returning to his room. His parents weren't home, as usual. With an inaudible sigh, he went to the bathroom for more aquaphor. He gazed into the mirror as he did it by feel rather than sight. Maybe that was his first mistake. Looking into the mirror. He wasn't really _seeing_ the mirror at first, absorbed in his thoughts, but then the whispers began.

 _You'realoneTweeky, Youalwayshavebeen. Thisfacadeyouwear, oftattoosandcoloredeyes, theydon'tchagewhatwebothknowyouknowthatright?You'rejustasaloneasyou'vealwaysbeen. YouhavenooneTweekyboy,exceptme. I'llalwaysbehereforyouTweeky._

Tweek froze, focusing on the mirror. His reflection..., it was grinning at him. He stood, transfixed, as his reflection's grin grew wider, exposing razor sharp teeth, a Cheshire grin upon it's face now.  
With effort he tore his gaze away and washed his hands. It didn't help though.

 _ThinkyoucanignoremeTweeky? Youknowit'snotthateasy. I'mtheonlyoneherewithyou._

And with that, as Tweek backed away from the sink, his reflection started to climb out of the mirror.  
He closed his eyes and focused his breathing, in for five, out for five, then opened his eyes again. His reflection was normal, crazy hair, wide, slightly panicked eyes, crudely buttoned shirt. He sighed again, and went back to his room. He twitched as he walked the short distance, but took a calming sip of his coffee before laying on his bed. He gazed up at the ceiling.

The voice couldn't be right, could it? Fuck it, he knew it was. It was all fucking true. He was a fucking fuck up. No amount of coffee could change that. He had few real friends, just those who tolerated him. It didn't matter though, nothing did.

The underpants gnomes chose that time to show up. He sat up and fixed them with an icy glare. They stared at him wordlessly for a moment until he suddenly leaned forward and said, "Boo!" They ran yelling something indecipherable. He smirked, at least he could take pleasure in the small things like that. He contemplated texting someone but who the fuck would he text? Especially at three in the goddamn morning.  
Eventually, he dropped off for a couple of hours. When he woke, he fetched himself some more coffee. His parents had been home and made a fresh brew. He sat downstairs in the living room for a little bit while he sipped his coffee. He supposed he should get something to eat, so he made himself a cold sandwich of lunch meat and hot sauce. He still had a couple of hours before school, so after eating he returned up the stairs and found himself clothes for the day before taking a quick, hot shower. He dressed and put aquaphor on his arm before carefully putting the sleeve down. With some time still left, he finished his first thermos of coffee and refilled it, fixing himself a mug of coffee too, to finish the pot that was made. He finished the mug before leaving and locking the house. It was still early, so he just walked to school rather than wait in the cold for the bus. Not many people were out that early, so his walk was uneventful, marked only by the occasional twitch. He walked around the back of the school to hang out, alone, before the first bell would ring. He didn't expect to find people back there.

The goths looked up a the sound of approaching footsteps. Firckle scoffed and returned his attention elsewhere. Michael just continued to smoke and Henrietta looked at him coldly.

"What do you want tweaker?" Pete's haggard voice called.

Tweek twitched, it sounded almost like what the voice called him, but it wasn't.

"Nothing." His reply was simple and gravelly, he took a seat about ten feet or more from them. Gazing out at the perpetual whiteness of the snow of South Park.

"What a fucking weirdo," Henrietta muttered.

"You can say that again," Firckle agreed.

Tweek got up and strode over to them, towering above their sitting forms, his face in shadow cast by his hair and the sun at his back, his ice blue eyes seeming to glow in the darkness.

"You fools have no idea of what you speak. You claim to worship Cthulu, to be goth because there is only pain in the world, but what do you know of pain? Does your mind conjure images and impossibilities to torment you daily and nightly? Does sleep elude you because your brain can't shut down because what if there's someone in your house? Even though you fucking know that's highly improbable. You fucking posers don't know shit," the last sentence came out a dangerous growl as he leaned closer to them, seeing something in his eyes, the goths scattered, the scent of piss hanging in the air.

He smirked, and returned to his earlier seated position. He hated how they pretended they understood the world and were better than everyone else because of it. They were normal, they weren't fucked like he was. What did they know?  
His gaze darkened. What did they know?  
He took a sip of his coffee before starting the walk around the school to go in, classes would begin any minute.

He stopped at his locker for his things, tuning out all the conversations around him. He grabbed his special notebook and red pen, before slamming the locker closed and spinning the combo lock. He walked to class slowly, all but dragging his feet. He heard the first bell ring and the halls quickly emptied until he was alone. He continued at his slow pace, reaching his class and seat just before the second bell.  
Largely, he paid no attention that day, instead, writing and doodling in his special notebook.

He drew a boy with spiky hair, crying blood. He wrote of things he couldn't see, that couldn't be real, the voice that told him he was worthless. He wrote and drew that boy again, this time, with black eyes and a bloodied heart in his hand.  
Drinking his coffee, he went to lunch and sat alone at a table close to the wall. He ate another cold sandwich for lunch and continued to doodle in his notebook, in the midst of that same boy, crying blood and holding a knife when someone approached his table.

He didn't immediately look up, prompting the other person to speak.

"I heard what you said to the goths," his voice was smooth, with a slight lisp.

Tweek still said nothing, nor looked up, intent upon his drawing.

"I would like to formally invite you to join us, per say," he continued.

At once, Tweek knew who it was, Mike, the leader of the vampires.

"We've heard of your appearance and unusual sleeping habits, we feel like you could benefit from joining us, per say," Mike was smiling though Tweek couldn't see it.

"Why would I want to join you posers?" Tweek's voice came out cold.

"Just because we like to roleplay in our daily lives does not make us posers," Mike growled, omitting the "per say" as that would be detrimental to his meaning and he didn't want that.

"I really don't care about cliques or Twilight. In fact, I hated that series," Tweek replied, still not looking at him.

"Consider it, at least," Mike advised.

Tweek did look at him then, ice blue eyes piercing. Mike's mouth literally fell open as he regarding Tweek, completely unprepared for what he was seeing. He had never given Tweek much thought before, he just faded into the background, except for his shrieks and twitching, he had never really paid any attention to him when they were kids.  
"Fuck off," Tweek replied, without malice, as if he had just said something normal and not usually inflaming as fuck.

Mike stood there a moment longer before walking away, still thinking about Tweek's eyes.

Tweek watched him walk away, making sure he wasn't going to come back. Then he returned his attention to the drawing and finished it before lunch was over.


	3. Chapter 3

Tweek finally was able to return home, where he immediately went upstairs to gently wash his arm and reapply the aquaphor. He was careful to avoid looking at the mirror this time, instead, his gaze hovered between the wall and the shower, the cream colored wall seeming to swirl before his eyes. He blinked hard and the wall returned to it's stationary state of being. He sighed, looking down at his hands as he washed them.

Upon leaving the bathroom, Tweek flopped on to his bed in a manner that left his legs bent over the edge and his feet firmly planted on the ground. His arms out to either side of him, he gazed at the ceiling. Wondering, the point of anything. His mind wouldn't leave him alone, no matter what he tried. Even the clarity of the tattoo faded in mere hours. And so he sat up, a realization dawning. It would be difficult and painful, he assented, but worth it. A terrifying grin lit his face, but his body thrummed with excitement.  
First, the difficult part, he surged off the bed, digging in his bag until he found a notebook and a black pen.

He wrote, slowly, the letters defined and slightly crooked but better than his usual scrawl. It was a letter to his parents, asking for money for art supplies, chances were, they would agree because they wanted him to pursue his passions. They didn't display his art because of not wanting to worry their patrons, but they still were ... glad their son had something he enjoyed.  
He folded the paper and put it inside an envelope, addressing it to them as he had done when requesting new flavors of coffee or money for some newer clothes. His parents were decently off, and while he could sell his art, and did, he wasn't well-known enough to make a substantial amount yet.

He walked down the stairs with confidence and placed the letter beside the coffee maker, where he knew they would see it.

With that finished, and a mug of fresh coffee, Tweek returned up the stairs, another idea forming. He dug in his closet for a few minutes before selecting a fitting piece of canvas. It wasn't too large and would suit his needs. First, he used a white crayon to draw the boy, a hole in his chest and the heart on the ground a few feet away. The boy smiled, but his eyes were hidden and blood was pooling. With the outline done, he retrieved his dark red paint and began the meticulous process of painting the blood, his twitching minimal.

' _Youreallythinkthisisgoingtowork? WhenhasanythingeverworkedforyouTweekyboy? Itneverwill. I'llalwaysbeapartofyou. Nothingyoudowilleverridyouofme. I'mapartofyou._ '

Tweek froze, almost jerked his hand and ruining his work so far. He took a steadying breath, focusing on his painting, time for the black. The black which went from corner to corner of the painting. The boy, all about him, was white, except the removed heart. It was an ocean of darkness and a stream of blood.

As Tweek took pictures of his work to upload to art sites that would have buyers for his type of work, the voice began again.

'I'mstillherey'know. _ThisisafutileattemptTweekyboy. Youcan'tescapethateasily!_ '

With the last sentence, the shadowy-wispy creature surged into his personal space, centimeters from his face. He could smell it's breath, it's rotting, decaying scent. It glowered at him with red and white eyes, enraged clearly.  
"You're nothing."

The creature howled into Tweek's face, hot, putrid air assaulted his senses but he did not back down. He stared at the creature, a figment of his mind.  
And then the creature did something Tweek did not expect, it plunged it's clawed hand-like appendage into his abdomen, breath hot on his ear as it whispered, ' _IKNOWyouTweekyboy. Iknoweverythingyouknow. Youhavenosecretsfromme. Iknowthatwhichyourefusetoacknowledge. You'redeludingyourselfTweeky. IthinkYOU'REthedelusionhereBOY._ '

Tweek stood, gasping, the phone he had been clutching on the ground.  
The voice's laughter echoed in his head as he fell to his knees.

Predawn light seeped through the curtains in Tweek's room. He blinked. Looked around, found his phone and stared at the screen without seeing it for a few minutes before he resumed the upload he had been in the middle of. With it finished, he put the painting near the closet, facing away from him. He went to the bathroom, avoiding the mirror. Once finished, he returned to his room and found clothes for the new day. He heard his parents moving about downstairs but took a shower anyway, the water was tepid and only got colder by the time he finally stepped out. The blond applied more aquaphor to his arm before exiting the bathroom, still in a daze. He collected his school bag and thermos, trudging down the stairs with heavy footfalls. He made his coffee mechanically, barely tasting it as he drank a pre-school mug before leaving and locking the house with his thermos firmly grasped in both hands. New band-aids adorned his hands, but he couldn't recall putting them there.  
He sat through class, a zombie, answering questions without emotion and slowly.

His coffee wasn't bringing him back. His twitches were worse than they had been in quite a while. He went outside for lunch, sitting in the back of the school, alone. He didn't taste his meager lunch, he wasn't that hungry anyway. He sat there, twitching every five to ten seconds, staring out at nothing at all.

Mike gazed across the snow covered grounds, Tweek was sitting alone, twitching. He had been acting strangely all day, according to the members of Mike's clique. It was strange, he had sounded so in control the day before. In fact, Mike couldn't remember seeing Tweek act so differently in years. Tweek had always been around, so to speak, Mike had finally remembered his name about a year prior. He had been wondering who the guy with the icey contacts was, and finally, he pieced it together. He had largely changed, but Mike had been observing him, for the last few years. If he was being honest, he admired his aesthetic and wanted to know him better, finally, yesterday, he had worked the courage to speak with him. It had not gone well, his mouth set in a disapproving line, his fangs which were currently plastic though he had plans of getting the real thing, were poking into his lip uncomfortably. But it wasn't just his fangs, making him feel this way. He couldn't place it, not entirely, not without sounding crazy. But seeing Tweek like that, it wasn't right. It bothered him, in a way nothing had really bothered him before. He had seen some weird things, growing up in South Park, who hadn't? But seeing Tweek act so..., strangely, unlike the self that Mike had come to know, he was ... worried. However, given their last encounter, Mike was unsure of how to approach the blond. He was basically a loner, he never sat with anyone or really talked to anyone. He was an enigma.

And so, Mike pledged to infiltrate Tweek's life, to know him better. Though it would take time, maybe he could become friends with the blond. At the very least, he could learn more about him.  
Mike returned to his friends and informed them they would now have coffee at Tweek Bros Coffee instead of their usual, they accepted this change of venue because Tweek Bros was known for opening earlier and therefore they could stop there before haunting the school prior to classes.  
It was with determination that Mike began this pursuit of knowledge about Tweek. Curiosity and maybe, desire, as no one had snubbed him quite like Tweek Tweak.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks passed, the shadow-figure was getting more solid by the day, it did not stick it's appendage into Tweek's abdomen again, but it lurked closer than before. He couldn't sleep as it would be on the ceiling above his bed, watching him when he laid down.

It was finally going to happen though, he had drawn it out this time, colored it a few times experimentally, always when the figure wasn't around. He kept his thoughts guarded. He never actively thought about what he was doing. He blared music to drown out everything. The music didn't always work, but it was effective when used in conjunction with his coffee.

One more night, that's all it would be. His problems would never be completely gone, but he could fix them for a while, until the next time. His mind was the enemy here, he knew, logically, there was only one thing that could ever truly fix him. But he did not allow himself to dwell on that fact, it would come when it came.

For now, he had to survive the rest of the school day. With a thermos full of coffee and Disturbed blaring into his ears, Tweek walked to school. It was getting colder, but he didn't mind as snow fell around him. Dressed all in black with his fingerless gloves, it would be easy to mistake him for one of the goth clique. His blond hair though, contrasted, his icey eyes also made it seem more that he was not of the earthly plane.  
He knew he unsettled people, for the most part, he enjoyed doing so. It kept them from trying to get close, it kept everyone at a comfortable distance. And so, he was alone, except for what went on in his head. He preferred it that way.

Until Mike. He would see the vampire-acting guy at his parents coffee shop after school with his friends and occasionally, by himself there before school. In the mornings, it was too busy for Tweek to see why Mike was bothering being there, he usually went to Denny's with his friends. In the afternoons, when Tweek would sit there or help out with customers, Mike and his friends would be there and order coffees.  
Mike wouldn't speak to him, unless he was ordering a coffee, but Tweek could feel him watching or would catch him staring and the teen would quickly look away.  
He couldn't be bothered to ask him why though, he was focused on the coming night. He had all the supplies he needed, but he had to finish his school work. Even as he sat in class, the shadow figure stood in the corner by the door. It wasn't whispering, not right then, it was just looking at him. He could feel it. It hadn't touched him again, but he was still paranoid about it doing so. When class ended, he made sure he was in the midst of the throng of students leaving. It followed him through the halls to his next class and stood in the back of the classroom, Tweek could hear whispers beginning, indistinct. He was twitching again, but he turned the music up louder, drowning the whispers, that was; until they became screams. He couldn't decipher everything that he swore he heard, but what he could, it wasn't okay, it never was. Death, agony, twisted shit he couldn't fathom. The figure was no longer in the background, it was right beside him by lunch. It would almost touch him, then stop inches from his hair or face. By the last class of the day, Tweek was a twitching mess. His music was helping only slightly and his coffee had run out by lunch.

It would still be hours before he could enact his plan. He went to Tweek Bros and got himself two coffees to do his homework with. Chances were though, he would get a few more coffees before returning home. The figure was crouching on the table as Tweek did his work, he could feel it and Mike staring. He did his best to ignore everything but his work though. His twitching was impeding his progress though. And so he went home earlier than he planned and went up to his room. Once there he gathered and set out all the supplies he would need. After that, he stripped off his shirt and jacket, putting the shirt in the dirty clothes and extracting a new short sleeved shirt from the closet which he place on his bed with his pajama pants. Next, he carefully shaved and disinfected the area of his forearm that the new piece was going. It was going to wrap around from the middle of his forearm to just below the crease of his arm. This time, it depicted the shadowy figure with its outstretched appendage, reaching, the hand-like appendage large and imposing, it was disproportionate to the arm-like appendage, it appeared to be growing larger, the tips of the "fingers" were a dark bloody color, the figure itself was the darkest black money could buy, with the "eyes" the lightest shade of white with a silvery gray around the edges. Around the figure words were scrawled messily, atop each other, backwards, upside down, the things the figure would say, the things he thought, but barely any of his skin in the area was uncovered. He was in considerable pain, but he wasn't finished yet. He disinfected his arm and let it air dry, taking a break for a minute for some coffee. His twitches had subsided in the first hour.  
He colored in the uncovered bits of skin with that same, dark bloody red.

When he finally finished, he was ravenous. He washed his arm and applied aquaphor, going down the stairs newly dressed in a t-shirt and his pajama pants. Everything was quiet for once. It was nice. He turned on the coffee pot and heated the frozen burritos he adored. He sat alone, in the faintly lit kitchen with his burritos and coffee. His arm ached, that was irritating, but he felt considerably better than he had in quite a while.  
He was self-medicating. He knew how dangerous that could be. But he was always careful.

His mind would do it again, and again, and again. Like a broken record that skips too many times, repeating the same tired lines until it's hit or adjusted. It was only a matter of time before it happened again. How long would it be before then? Did it matter?  
Tweek finished his breakfast and washed his dishes, going back up the stairs for an exhausted nap. His alarm woke him a short two hours later and he got ready for the school day, careful of his newest addition. He gazed into the mirror, ice blue eyes gazed back. He smiled and his reflection smiled back.


	5. Chapter 5

Tweek blared music on the cold walk to school that day. It was nice, freeing, he didn't feel like he usually did. He was cold, twitchy, but none of those in a bad way. He had one thermos in his hand, a second full of coffee was nestled warmly in the confines of his backpack. He didn't sleep much, but the coffee made him feel good. He took his standard seat behind the school, far enough away from the goth kids so they should stay away from him. He smoked just one today, he felt good still. Euphoric even.

He went to class after a few more minutes of enjoying the outside.  
It was considerably warmer inside the building, he went to class, sipping his coffee contentedly.

Chatter around him, none he paid attention to. His arm was aching again, but it barely penetrated the euphoric haze. Once class started, he paid attention more or less to what they were saying.  
Eventually, it was lunch time, and he wandered to the cafeteria. He was starving still from this morning, so he stood in line, finishing his first thermos. He purchased the most appetizing items, a chicken sandwich, peaches, and mashed potatoes with gravy. His stomach rumbled as he sat at his customary table. He dug his second thermos out of his bag before first enjoying the peaches.  
He was enjoying the chicken sandwich when someone approached his table. He ignored them, assuming they would go away when he didn't acknowledge their presence.

"Hey Tweek," a soft, slight lisp voice reached his ears.

"What do you want?" The sandwich was set down and coffee reached for.

"I found a band you might like, per se," Mike continued, sliding a folded piece of paper on to the table towards Tweek.

Tweek let the boy's words hang in the chatter filled air, making no move to take the offered paper.

"Good day Tweek," Mike muttered before walking back to his friends' table.

Tweek resumed his sandwich, occasionally getting a sip of coffee. He finished his food and put his earbuds in, waiting for the lunch period to be over. He didn't feel like moving just yet, afternoon classes would be easy. He hadn't felt this well in quite some time. It was ... strange. He threw away his trash, coming back to the table to find Mike's piece of paper lying there still. He stared at it for long minutes. Eventually, as the bell rang, he took the paper and slipped it into his pants pocket.

Unbeknownst to him, Mike saw the action and smiled. It seemed, his plan was working.

Tweek went to his afternoon classes, enjoying his coffee. Aside from Mike, the day was stereotypical, boring.  
He finished classes and walked home. Upon returning, he made more coffee, going upstairs to put more aquaphor on his arm, then returning back down the stairs to enjoy the coffee and do his homework.  
He a thermos of coffee before leaving work. When he first arrived at work, it was busy. Once things calmed down, he made himself coffee and started cleaning up the store. Few people came in as he cleaned and he made their coffee before resuming his cleaning. Night had fallen and the temperature dropped by the time he was finished. He made a last cup of coffee before finishing cleaning the coffee maker and locking the store. He listened to music on the walk home, the wind blowing biting at his tattoo. His arm was warm though, he would have to wash it carefully and apply more aquaphor.  
His parents are already in bed by the time he comes in. He fills his thermos with the coffee they left for him before lightly stepping up the stairs. He finds his pyjamas and goes to the bathroom. After stripping his clothes off, he steps into the shower. As he's drying off, he chances a glance in the mirror. But it's just him, drying off. He exhales a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. After pulling his pants on, he remembers the paper Mike had given him. He digs in the pocket of his pants, extracting the paper. Written in elegant script, "Fist Up by Kidneytheives if you like it, text me and I can recommend more of their good songs." A phone number follows. He gazes at the song title and stuffs the paper into his pyjama pants pocket. He gingerly dons his shirt before carefully applying more aquaphor to his arm.

Returning to his room, Tweek lays on his bed and uses his phone to search for the new song. His listens to it a few times, eventually concluding that he likes it. However, texting Mike, isn't entirely appealing. Friendships never work out well for him. He's sick. Weird. Fucked in the goddamn head. Mike wouldn't want to actually be friends with someone like him. He knows that. And so, Tweek spends most of the night and into the morning looking into the band Kidneytheives.


	6. Chapter 6

Tweek was something along the lines of good for two months before it started again.  
It began with whispers, someone whispering something just out of earshot but enough that he would try to listen harder but no one else heard it or he was alone, therefore no one else could have been whispering. He drank his coffee as usual, listening to loud music, selling more of his art. His grades improved to B's rather than the C's he was getting. Winter break is fast approaching, which will be a nice three weeks of no school, where he can put more time into his art and building a customer base.

Gradually, as exams near, the whispers get louder, he can hear them half of the time now.  
The day of his last exam, they're screams. Right in his ear, though he knows it's dead silent in the room. He's a twitching mess, jumping, trying to hold back, to finish his test. He shakily brings his thermos to his lips and takes a long gulp, the screaming stopping for a few seconds. It's too loud for him to try to discern what exactly is being said. He scrawls messily across his exam and takes it up, bolting from the classroom and the school.

He doesn't notice anyone or anything in his departure, Mike gazes after the blond who looks as though someone may well be chasing him. He stares after the him for a few minutes, torn between investigating and continuing back to his class to finish his exam. He doesn't know where Tweek lives, though South Park is small, he's never come across him. Though he returns to his class, his thoughts continuously drift back to Tweek.

Tweek runs all the way home, the screaming louder than his music, more persistent. He sits on his bed, clutching his head. He rocks, back and forth, the screams finally, finally receding.  
But that's when it appears.

Long wispy legs, as if made of black smoke, appear in his line of vision.

 _'It's been far too long Tweeky. Have you missed me?'_

Tweek doesn't acknowledge it, trying to focus on his breathing, but it's not working because now the thing has gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look up into its face, a black pit, with white eyes and a mouth full of glimmering teeth. Tweek squeezes his eyes shut but that doesn't help, it's still touching him.

 _'You can't ignore me Tweeky. I've told you, I'll always be with you.'_

But then it's gone, and Tweek slumps forward, his phone buzzing at him. He tries for several minutes to steady his breathing before finally looking at his phone.

"You okay?" It's from Mike.

Tweek doesn't reply, tossing his phone on to the bed behind him. He knows what he's got to do. And so he goes to his closet and finds his supplies. This one goes on the upper topside of his forearm, directly below his wrist. A black, clawed hand, dripping a dark dried blood. It's only about three inches long and the width of his forearm without going over the edges of the bone.

He washes afterward, applying aquaphor.

He's twitching again, two hours later, the whispers are right behind him. Nonsense, mostly, occasionally telling him it's useless and that he's worthless.

He refills his coffee, and makes food, suddenly starving. But he eats it and doesn't taste it, even his coffee seems to have lost its flavor. The whispers are louder now, right in his ear, except they're not whispers any more, they're normal speaking tones.

Tweek returns upstairs to his room, and lays upon the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. The talking has turned to shouts, but Tweek just gazes up at the ceiling.  
Why isn't it working?

Days pass, the figure talking to him, touching him, screaming at him. His parents are oblivious, he looks worse than he has in years, he has only managed a total of four hours of sleep since his last exam at school.  
He can't sleep, there, it's so much worse. The figure, stalks him. Telling him the same things in his dreams as it does in waking.

Upon his other arm, Tweek draws the figure, tall and thin, wispy, gazing up with white eyes and that sharp smile.  
It doesn't help. The whispers are constant, the figure is always present, his reflection is never his own. Sometimes it kills him, but he knows he's still alive, his heart is still beating, he's still breathing. It's hard to keep track of what tattoos need attention. He's added so many.

The week before he's to go back to school, it's 4am and Tweek is busy on his latest tattoo, this one on his right thigh. It's the figure again, tall, black, wispy, white eyes and a sharp tooth smile. The hand is outstretched, dripping blood as wispy chains spiral out from it, wrapping around Tweek's thigh and down past his knee. Scrawled between the chains and other empty space are the things the figure says to him, in scratchy red lettering. Tears fall but Tweek doesn't notice it, intent upon his tattooing.  
Nothing has changed so he moves to the next piece on his left thigh, this time it's that boy, lightly shaded in gray and crying tears of blood, the blood pooling below his bent head, his black hair messy just like Tweek's. The blood pools become rivulets down Tweek's thigh, stopping at his knee and knee-bend.

Everything is receding, albeit slowly, so Tweek continues, starting on his lower leg, this time, a spiral of words and phrases that are commonly whispered and screamed at him. It spirals out from the middle of his shin until it covers the majority of the bottom half of his leg.  
Silence.

Blissful, silence.  
He's ravenous.

Mechanically, he walks to the bathroom to wash up and apply aquaphor. He returns to his room and disposes of the items he used, going downstairs and outside for the first time in weeks. He tosses the trash and returns inside, he feels cold, but it's very distant. He makes himself coffee and food. He doesn't exactly enjoy the items but he relishes the silence.  
He falls asleep and actually sleeps without nightmares, waking the next evening. He showers and applies aquaphor as needed.  
Venturing downstairs, he makes himself more coffee and food. His parents are at the shop still. He wonders if they noticed his absence, probably not.

Upon returning to his room, he picks up his phone and finally responds to Mike, "I'm fine."


	7. Chapter 7

Mike begins actively pestering him. Sitting one table away, by himself, but still close enough to Tweek that they could speak, if either dared. Tweek gave him disdainful looks but otherwise nothing transpired. This went on for an additional three months. Summer was fast approaching, which meant unless Mike continued to pester him at work, he would see far less of the vampire-roleplaying teen. He would have almost three months of no school. Then his final year of highschool would begin. He would spend the summer working, mostly along with creating art to sell. He wasn't sure he wanted to move out, he liked the stability of working at Tweek Bros with his parents, and didn't have college plans. But he wasn't sure if he could afford an apartment on his own. He could think about that more in another year though, for now..., he had classes to finish and exams to take.

Mike would occasionally text Tweek, sending him song recommendations, asking how he was, invite him to get coffee. Tweek would reply minimally, saying as little as possible. He didn't understand why Mike was bothering.

But it didn't bother him, until _it_ noticed.  
 _'Hmmm Tweeky boy, did you think you could get rid of me? Really? I thought we were passed that._ ' It whispered to him, right behind him, hot breath on his ear and neck.

He ignored it and continued to stare at the scrawled notes before him.

 _'Would be a shame if that Mikey child were to learn of what you're hiding, wouldn't it?'_

Tweek paused, it was only for a few seconds but it immediately noticed and surged forward, Tweek fell so he was laying on his notes on his desk in his room, unable to sit up as the demon-like apparition was pressing itself atop him.

' _Could it be Tweeky boy? Could it be you developed some feelings towards him? Could it be you care what someone would think? Because you know once he sees, once he gets to know the real you, that he'll leave but not before making sure you get locked up.'_

Tweek went rigid, his eyes fell closed as he tried to regulate his breathing with a simple pattern, it wouldn't work though, only one thing ever made it go away.

' _hahahahaha, tweeky, I'm all you've got and I'll always be here!'_ he pressed against him harder, flattening him to the desk, it's breath vile and coating his ear.

He couldn't move, it had him pinned.

' _Always tweeky...'_

It just kept repeating that phrase, but it wasn't atop him any longer, it was on his side though, glaring through him, whispering about how it was all he had, about how no one would love him or care about him, that he was a fool to think anything he did would ever cause it to go away completely.

He was so tired though. It was the same thing, over and over and over. It never really went away for very long. His self-medicating wasn't keeping it away as long anymore. He was so tired.

He struggled up, and went to his closet. He grabbed his supplies and stripped his bottom half to his boxer briefs. He carefully shaved and disinfected his unadorned leg. He wasn't thinking anymore, but it was still there, he could feel it looking at him. When he got into a comfortable position it started yelling, blood sprayed from its mouth, hitting him in the face. He flinched but didn't look up as it continued to yell, he could feel its size increase as it loomed above him as he began the lining process. From the top most part of his thigh he drew a boy with spiky hair like his, blood dripping down his face to stain the boys legs as he sat in a crumpled heap, hands clenched uselessly on his sides. The boy's mouth was open in a yell and around the boy, whom he shaded in black and dark gray, in red he wrote the latest whispers of "Always...", "All you've got", "No one cares", and "locked up", the writing was scratchily lettered, but plain to read if looked closely. It covered his upper thigh to his knee, shadow tendrils snaking from the boy to form a version of the demon-like apparition as it grinned with blood dripping from its mouth appearing to look at the boy.

He shakily stood and took a shower, cleaning up his room when he finished. He went downstairs to the kitchen, clad only in boxer briefs. His parents were asleep already, he saw the clock say it was 2am. He brewed himself coffee and found himself some burritos to microwave. He ate and drank his coffee in a lovely silence.  
He washed his dishes and returned to his room. He laid down gazing up at the ceiling. Thinking he should turn off the light but he didn't want to get back up. So he laid there, just staring at the ceiling.  
Eventually he fell into a light slumber, waking immediately to his alarm for school. He took a rushed shower and dressed himself in baggy black cargo pants and an equally black long sleeved button up. He stuffed his notes back into his bag and hurried to the bus stop, not wanting to deal with the pain of such a far walk.

He listened to music until time for class to begin. Next week, was finals week, and then he would be free of Mike's pestering, or so he hoped.

It surprised him, but Mike sat across from him at lunch that day.

"I didn't see you in your usual spot this morning."

"I didn't walk."

"Would you like to have coffee this afternoon?"

"Why the hell do you keep asking when I've told you to fuck off?"

Tweek looks annoyed, gazing at Mike with his icy eyes, Mike is unfazed mostly.

"Because I want to be your friend."

Tweek snorted and went back to his food, a chicken sandwich.

"I'm not saying you have to roleplay like my other friends and I do, per se."

"Will you just fuck the hell off?" Tweek snarled, all but throwing his sandwich back onto his tray.

Mike looked shocked at Tweek's outburst.  
"I... I mean, I can. I just wanted to be your fucking friend."

Tweek looked away.  
"I don't get why. I don't have friends, if you haven't noticed."

"I want to know you, whether you believe it or not, doesn't matter, per se."

The demons words flashed in his mind as his newest addition pulsed in pain. It couldn't have been telling the truth, it lied, always. What could really be so bad about Mike? It's not like he would ever see him without his sleeves and pants.

Tweek grumbled under his breath but eventually muttered, "Fine. I've got work today and then I'm going home to study. If you happen to be at Tweek Bros. when they close, you can come home and do some studying with me. I usually put music on when I'm studying, so don't expect conversation."

Mike was shocked but recovered quickly, "Cool, I'll see you tonight, per se."

Tweek returned to his sandwich and neglected to answer.

There was no more conversation between them during lunch, and Tweek wondered whether he made the right choice.

Later, the walk to work was mildly excruciating. His leg burned as his pants touched it but he ignored it as he put his apron on and began taking orders. It was busy for that time but it would die down in about an hour or less. He was busy as was his dad, his mother was rotating the stock in the back and bringing out what he and his dad told her they were low on.

Finally, it was over. The sun was setting upon South Park as he locked the shop for the night.

Mike appeared, seemingly out of no where, "Hey."

Tweek merely inclined his head towards him and began the walk home.

Upon reaching his house, Tweek told Mike to stay there and he went upstairs to remove his shoes and gather only the notebooks he needed to study. Upon returning, Mike had indeed stayed where Tweek had left him.

"You can sit at the table, I'm hungry and so going to make some dinner, do you need anything?"

"A drink?"

"Coffee? Your usual?"

Mike nodded and Tweek turned and delved into the kitchen, preparing Mike's coffee first and then his own. He also made some frozen waffles, which he ate as they were as he walked back to the dining room to give Mike his coffee.

Holding the waffle in his mouth he handed Mike his coffee and set his own mug on the dining room table before taking a bite from the waffle.  
Mike sat across the table from Tweek and dug in his backpack for notebooks. Tweek opened his notebook to where he had left off the day before. There were few sounds as the two sipped their coffee and flipped through pages.

As Tweek stared at the words before him, he realized something, maybe it was his self-medicating or maybe it was Mike's presence, but he felt strangely peaceful. His parents were already in bed or at least in their room since they had to open the shop early. And although they weren't talking, it was still ... nice to have someone else sharing space with him that would at least talk to him like he was OK.

He finished studying for the one class and closed his notebook, getting up and stretching, as he glanced at Mike he saw the other teen's eyes upon him. Tweek quickly put his arms back down at his sides and snatched his mug from the table, walking to the kitchen.

He made himself another cup, before reentering the dining room and telling Mike, "There's more of your coffee in the pot, still warm but not as warm as freshly made."

Tweek took a sip of his coffee, before sitting at the table again as Mike stood and stretched as well before going to get more coffee. Tweek stared after him for about a minute, wondering why he had been gazing at him. He shrugged and returned to his notes for another class. He heard Mike return to the table but didn't look up, intent upon his reading.

Near silence ensued as they enjoyed their coffee and notes.

"I should be getting home, per se."

Tweek glanced up, and then held up a hand, hoping Mike would get that he would talk to him in a second.

He heard Mike get up and walk to the kitchen. He finished his notes section and stood as well.  
"It was nice studying with you, per se."

"Yeah..., same," Tweek answered with a slight shrug.

"Thanks for the coffee too," Mike smiled but Tweek wasn't looking at him, he had gone to the door to unlock it.

Mike's face fell but he returned to a neutral expression as he gathered his backpack and walked to the door as well.

Tweek opened the door for the vampire cosplayer and awaited his departure.  
"Later man, thanks again," Mike smiled at Tweek briefly before taking his leave.

Tweek mumbled "Later" but he doubted Mike heard him as he shut and locked the door behind him. He grabbed the two mugs from the table and went to the kitchen to wash and dry them. After returning those to the cabinet, Tweek found his thermos and put the remaining coffee within it and then went about cleaning the coffee maker so it would be ready for later when he needed a refill or in the morning, whichever came sooner.

With that finished, he returned to his room with his thermos. He took a drink before digging through his dresser to find a new pair of boxers and a soft long sleeved shirt.  
He set his clothes in the bathroom on the counter before returning to his room to finish his coffee. He set the thermos on his nightstand before returning to the bathroom. He stripped carefully and then stepped into the shower. He washed and dried himself off, getting dressed and then using aquaphor and lotion as needed before returning to his room with his dirty clothes. He tossed them into the hamper before grabbing his thermos and trotting down the stairs, which proved to be uncomfortable as his leg started lightly throbbing. He exhaled through his nose, paused at the bottom of the stairs. A few seconds later he took his time to the kitchen, flipping on lights as he went. He washed his thermos and set it on a towel before going to the pantry to decide what kind of coffee to brew. He stared for a few minutes, considering, eventually making a decision and taking his selection to the coffee maker. He started it brewing and then went back to drying his thermos.  
The coffee was almost finished so he grabbed a mug from the cabinet as well.

He first poured the majority of the coffee into his thermos and the remainder into his mug. He sipped from his mug as he yet again washed the the coffee maker. He carried his two drinks up to his room and set them on his desk. Then he went to his closet and grabbed a few art supplies.

He reached into his pocket and found his phone, lighting the screen to see a message and that he needed to plug it in. He unlocked it and read the message, it was from Mike, "Made it home, thanks for the study session and coffee."

"Yeah," he replied before walking over to his bed to plug his phone in, which he then tossed it on to his bed and returned to his desk.

He sat down and began working on some more art to sell.

Hours later, Tweek was stirred from his work by his phone's alarm. He had finished three and a half pieces. He stood and stretched, checking his thermos, which was quite sadly, empty. He sighed and went to his bed, grabbing his phone and dismissing the alarm. He stared at it, his brain not registering the time as he stared but soon it did and he realized he had about an hour before he would have to leave. He set a timer for forty five minutes and returned to his desk. By the time the alarm went off, he had finished his last piece and posted them for selling. He turned off the alarm and went to the bathroom to wash his leg and then went back to his room to get dressed in an outfit similar to the one from yesterday.

He wandered down the stairs and poured himself more coffee that his parents made for him. He found some frozen hashbrown patties in the freezer and made those in the toaster, leaving with them in a paper towel as he walked to the bus stop. He ate on the way there and threw his paper towel away once he got on the bus.  
He sipped his coffee and cranked up his music, lost in the music on the ride to school. The bus arrived early enough that he could go sit in his usual spot. He took his coveted seat and enjoyed relative quiet and his coffee.

Mike walked over and waved at Tweek as he continued by to sit with his usual friend-group. Tweek nodded in response and gazed up at the sky, it was surprisingly blue, very few wispy clouds about. It seemed his latest self-medication was working.


End file.
